Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Clean this mess up, get your things together, and meet me in the car.”
“Sadie needs to eat,” he argues. And he’s right. We’re early. I haven’t had my coffee or breakfast either.
“It’s fine. I’m not hungry,” she says softly.
Fuck. I’m messing this up. I’m doing a shit job of taking care of them. Maybe they would be better off without me? I’m sure Nash thinks so.
“No, it’s not okay,” Nash tells her.
“He’s right. You both need to eat. Finish your smoothie or whatever else you were making. I’ll be in the car.”
I grab my bag from the shelf by the door and walk out. It takes them twelve minutes before they join me in the car. I know I should check to make sure they’ve eaten, but I don’t. Nash will have made sure they had, and it’s not like they want me involved in their lives anyway.
The car is silent as I take Nash to school first. He hugs and kisses his sister before getting out, completely ignoring me. It’s not until we’re alone together that Sadie says quietly, “Sorry we’re a pain.”
My heart clenches. If Sandra treated them the way she did me, they must have always felt like a pain, a responsibility the person who was supposed to love them didn’t want. “You’re not a pain. I apologize for not being better at this.”
I meet her big brown eyes in the rearview mirror, and Sadie nods before turning away. Neither of us speaks after that. When we arrive at her school, I say, “Have a good day,” as she gets out, but the door closes so fast, I don’t know if she heard me or if she cares.
My brain doesn’t slow down the rest of the way to work. Henry tries to talk to me, but I tell him I’m late for a meeting and hurry away. It’s still early. Colton isn’t supposed to arrive for another fifteen minutes, and I really need that time to get myself sorted out, but the second I approach my office, I see him there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, T-shirt stretched tightly across his pecs and arms, looking as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. All that does is make the anger inside me boil hotter.
“James,” he says, pushing away from the wall.
“Professor Valentine,” I correct him, forcing myself not to look around to make sure no one heard.
He winces as though he hadn’t used my first name on purpose. I can see how that’s something he’ll have to get used to. I’ve gone from being his good boy to his professor. My dick twitches as I try to force those thoughts from my head. I don’t need or want to be his good boy. I never should have been in the first place.
He doesn’t respond as I fumble trying to unlock the door.
“You’re not late,” he says, making my heart beat even faster. “I’m early.”
I know he’s saying that because of how upset I was when he arrived first the last time we had a scene together. “I know,” I snap, but I still don’t like that he was here first. I don’t like that he’s here at all, especially after the morning I’ve had.
I freeze when Colton’s hand lands on mine…when he takes the key from me and unlocks the door. I shouldn’t be allowing him to do that. My shoulders shouldn’t relax when he does.
I snatch the key back, then lead him into my office. We should do this in the classroom, but then, we shouldn’t be doing this at all. And it’s not as if I’ve never had a student in my office, especially for important discussions, but none of them were Colton.
I walk over to my desk and set my bag down. “I take it you weren’t able to get out of my class.”
“I tried. None of the ones I need are offered next semester either. It will throw me off track to wait. I understand that this can—”
“Get me fired and make me lose everything?” I interrupt.
“Could it, though? If we don’t do it again?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, walking away from him, giving Colton my back and looking out the window.
He’s right. There’s no way anyone would ever be able to find out we had sex. We were at my house both times. It’s been over for months. It won’t affect his grades or how he’s treated. My TA does most of my grading anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “If you really don’t think we can make this work, I’ll drop the class.”
I turn and look at him, see the sincerity on his face, think about the care he’d shown me when we were together, and though I don’t really know Colton, I believe him. He would drop this class even if it made his life more difficult.